A terror of butterflies
by SassyJ
Summary: Ari Haswari had a mission to complete, but his foolish love for a woman prevents him completing his mission. He has found love, but can he keep it?
1. Chapter 1

He had had ample opportunity to contemplate his error of judgment in the last couple of hours. How he could have been so complacent, so blind, he really did not understand?

For the third time he struggled to free himself, but it was hopeless. She had been ruthlessly efficient and very thorough. He was pinned out like a butterfly to a piece of card. His wrists were bound, one to each bedpost at the headboard. His ankles, one to each post at the foot of the bed. She had taken good care not to cause him injury, she had made a point of making him secure but as comfortable as possible. But he was very secure, freeing himself was as far away as when he had begun his struggles all those hours ago.

He was silent too. She had seen to that, the silk scarf she had crammed into his mouth had soaked up most of his saliva. His efforts to spit the scarf out as futile as his struggle with his bonds. She had clamped a hand over his mouth to prevent him spitting the scarf out, then she had taken off the soft silk scarf she was wearing, placed a knot in the centre, forced the knot behind his teeth, she had had the scarf twice around his head, forcing the knot and the scarf that filled his mouth even more tightly in there, and then she had knotted it behind his head.

Her thumb had traced his upper lip then, and he practically screamed in frustration, which came out as a muffled howl. He was securely bound, and even more securely gagged. He could do nothing until he was released. He squirmed helplessly as she patted his cheek, and bent to kiss his lips.

Even with the frustration of his restraint, his body responded to her touch. Even pinned out like a butterfly. He wanted her.

"I'll be back. Don't go anywhere." She patted his cheek again, put her hands either side of his head and gazed deeply into his brown eyes. "You know why I'm doing this?" He could not bear that look in her eyes, he nodded, _yes, I understand_, however uncomfortable he was, and she was very good at what she had done. He could not complete his mission. He was going to live, and suddenly through all the rage and pain, and the hatred, that was what he wanted to do.

He tried to tell her. Her hands were still holding his face, he grunted through the scarf, he couldn't form the words, but she understood him all the same. She shook her head. "No. I can't take the chance, I cannot lose you." He knew why she was doing it, why she had tied him to her bed. He was naked, but she had carefully covered as much of him with the quilt as possible.

He had never failed at a mission. Until now. Until the woman he loved decided to protect him from himself. At first he imagined that this would be easy, that gaining her trust and her heart would be simple. He had already gained the trust of the older, more worldly wise woman. Who would undoubtedly have shot him on sight if he had not been able to take her out first.

Now the game had changed. Irrevocably. There was nothing he could do except wait.

Ari Haswari lay on his back and wondered just what he was doing. This was going to be a long day. He closed his eyes and drifted.


	2. Chapter 2

Abby sank the remains of her Caf-Pow and dropped it in the trash. She was still on edge. She had no idea why she was doing what she was doing. But she knew if she didn't do it then people would die.

People she cared about. Gibbs, Kate, Tony, McGee... and the man who had insinuated himself into her life and suddenly become as necessary as breathing.

There was a game plan here. She could feel it. And as surely as she knew it wasn't Ari's plan, it had to be someone else's. Someone on her team was going to die, and she was going to prevent that.

She didn't like doing it. Slipping him a little something in his coffee had made him drowsy enough to handle. Docile, unlike the tightly wound tiger he usually was. So when she had secured his wrists, there was no more than a slightly puzzled frown, he made no objection.

Tying his ankles had provoked more of a response, but by then he was secure and could do nothing to prevent her. She hated gagging him, but she had gone that far and preventing him carrying out the mission that would kill him was better than a little discomfort.

Getting back home to free him was the thing uppermost in her mind. Hoping that he wouldn't be angry. Hoping that he still had trust in her, enough to forgive her.

* * *

><p>His shoulders were aching, his mouth was dry and he needed to answer the call of nature desperately, but harming Abby was the very last thing from Ari's mind.<p>

She had done what she had done for him. And he couldn't get it out of his head. The girl he had pursued out of curiosity and then devilment, the woman he had wooed and maybe won, Abigail Scuito was all he cared about now. Whose plan, didn't matter.

His war with his father, the plan, all of it. It didn't matter. He had found something that endured, when he looked at Abby all his hate evaporated.

He screwed his eyes closed, and arched his back a little, trying to ease his stiffened muscles. In his own arrogance he had pursued her. Curious about such a being. A woman who feared autopsy, but slept in a coffin. It made no sense. So he lingered in the shadows watching and waiting. He had started to follow her. It was her humanity that drew him in, and her free soul. Something he realised he had never truly had. So he started to infiltrate her lifestyle, at the very edges. Cautiously he had insinuated himself into the scene, careful to watch her but never get too close.

It was the masked ball that gave him his chance. Woo her from behind the mask. So he'd spent an afternoon and several hundred dollars in the purchase of clothing for purely frivolous purposes.

He had taken his time, worked his way to the prize. She wasn't what he had expected, she was smart, much smarter than he had assumed. She was almost child-like in her enthusiasms, but that razor sharp wit he had to watch out for. She was perceptive, with depths that he knew he wanted to explore.

They talked for hours, and danced, and when it came time to unmask, he knew he would. Fingers stiff and trembling, he freed the strings that held the mask to his face. He watched the emotions chase across her face. He was certain that he would see rejection.

He saw regret, concern, uncertainty, but no rejection. He bent his head, and those earnest green eyes gazed into his. Her lips brushed his lips and he deepened the kiss.

That was it. They both knew that they were doing wrong, but something that felt so right couldn't be wrong.

So wrapped up was he in reliving the moments with Abby, that he almost failed to register the soft touch of gentle fingers. Unknotting the scarf around his head, and pulling the other out of his mouth. He kept his eyes closed, tuned in to the sensation of her touch. She freed one hand, and then the other. Slowly he sat up, and groaned.

Her arms slid around him, and he burrowed against her, "water." She whispered. He could think of many things he wanted other than water, but obediently he took a sip from the glass she was holding.

She freed his ankles and he hobbled stiffly to the bathroom, his body aching from being in the one position for so long.

"What do you want to eat?" she called from the kitchen, "Takeaway? or I could cook?"

He licked his lips, and manipulated his jaw a little, the tendons ached, "No takeaway." He replied. He didn't want to share her. Even for a moment or two with someone at the door. His hips and knees were very stiff as he hobbled to the kitchen. Close behind her, he wrapped his aching arms around her. Bent his head to kiss the spiderweb on her neck. "I don't want to share you." He whispered, "with anyone..."

"Jealous, huh!" he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Wildly." he muttered, nuzzling close, senses overwhelmed by Abby. Wrapped around her, he could feel peace settle into his soul.

"Gibbs?" He could feel the question in her voice, his cheek resting against her neck, his lips caressing her shoulder. He could hear the tension. Gibbs was an edgy subject that they danced around. Abby worshipped her boss. Ari... well, he had a different view. The two encounters he had had with Gibbs had ended painfully for both of them.

Ari's shoulder still ached; the damage had been considerable, and since he was still following orders, playing at being the MOSSAD mole in Hamas, he'd had no choice but to continue on. He had lied to everybody that the injury wasn't debilitating; even though it had been weeks before he could move his arm without pain.

His shoulder was throbbing hard now, he was trying to pretend it wasn't hurting, but he couldn't fool Abby. He was a doctor, it was hard to accept advice, and he was well able to take care of himself, so he had treated himself. Ignoring the little voice in his head which was trying to tell him that this was a bad move.

She turned in his arms. It was the shoulder again, she knew it. The scars were deceptively small, but even though the shot had been almost a year ago, the shoulder wasn't properly healed. She reached out, and began to massage and he watched her tend to his shoulder. She had good hands. Her touch was gentle, but firm. The benefits would not last very long but there would be relief for a while.

They were together, for him that was more than he could have hoped for, but the clouds were gathering, and he was no longer sure what he was fighting for.

She sensed his change in mood, she paused and he bent his head and kissed her fiercely. They did not know what tomorrow would bring.


	3. Chapter 3

They lay together, naked, limbs entwined, Ari's arms around her waist, his cheek resting against her chest, he could feel her heartbeat; Abby's arms around his neck, clutching him as close as she could get him.

They knew it was coming; it was inevitable. They wanted to hold on to what they had for as long as possible. He knew it would end badly for them, she knew she risked everything, especially her job. He had not done what he ordered to do. He couldn't do it any more and the chances were that he would be executed for his failure to obey orders.

So they clung to each other. He was done with the killing and he could not go back. He was homeless, jobless and stateless. The one thing in his life was the woman he was holding.

* * *

><p>He glanced in the window, seeing what he had hoped against all hope and rationality that he would not see. Knowing that she had a terrorist in her house… <em>in her bed<em>.

He clamped down on his rage and disappointment. She was guilty, and she better have a damn good explanation.

They were naked, lit by the moonlight, and he noted with satisfaction the scarring on his enemy's shoulder. He made that. He had been a marine sniper for many years, served in war zones, and dealt with wounds in the field. A glance at the mangled mass of scarring told him that Haswari had not sought medical assistance. Rather treated the wound himself. Possibly this was a weakness that he could use against the man.

Gibbs gathered himself together. Clamped down on his temper. Ari Haswari was there for a reason, and that could be nothing good. That his beloved forensic scientist had chosen to lie with this man, to keep his presence hidden from Gibbs said some very bad things for their relationship. But Gibbs wanted answers and he was prepared to maintain the high ground.

Years ago she had given him a key. For no other reason than she was his honorary daughter, in place of his lost child. He was alone, and it was a risk, but he was betting on one thing, emotion. Abby was emotionally involved with this man, and Leroy Jethro Gibbs was betting that Haswari felt more than a passing fancy for her.

Softly he slid the key into the lock and turned it very gently. With a small click the door swung open. Not on the chain, Gibbs noted with a mild feeling of irritation. He had told her often enough. _Put the chain on the door._ He could hear his words and see her rueful smile. Humoring him.

Silently he let himself in. Slipped across the darkened hallway to the door he knew was her bedroom.

He pushed the door open. It swung back gently on well-oiled hinges, and he stepped into the bedroom. Haswari's back was to the door, which made it even easier for Gibbs to step up to the coffin, and put the muzzle of his gun to the back of Ari's head.

"Get up." Gibbs' word dropped into the silence like dimes into a tin cup.

"I will go with you." Haswari sat up slowly, keeping his hands in view. Abby stirred and woke up. Her eyes flew wide, "no… Gibbs… please… no." She reached out to her lover in desperation.

Gibbs gave Ari a little nudge with his gun. "Get dressed." That his enemy was being so co-operative was strangely disappointing. Abby's eyes were bright with tears, and he felt his anger stirring again. _Why?_

She had never believed that Gibbs' eyes could look at her so coldly. Ari finished dressing, and did not resist as Gibbs dragged his arms back and put the handcuffs on. This was goodbye, and the pain in her heart strangled even her grief and fear over the look of disappointment and disapproval on Gibbs' face.

She rose then, her long black hair swishing around her shoulders, naked in the moonlight, she embraced her lover.

Unable to crush her body to his, Ari buried his face in the side of her neck. "Hush my love." He whispered into her skin, the roughness of his unshaven chin tickling her, "we knew it would come to this. Be safe, my love."

She had to try. "Gibbs… I…"

"We'll talk about this tomorrow." Implacable, cold… so far from the Gibbs she knew and loved.

She subsided then, knowing that further protest would be useless, and that her captured lover might suffer if she pushed it. She could only watch as Ari was taken away. In chains, as they had both known it would be.


	4. Chapter 4

Abigail Sciuto went through the evidence very carefully. These days everything she did was careful.

She had failed. Kate was dead. Shot through the head by an unseen sniper on a roof as the team had prevented a terrorist outrage.

One tiny consolation. Ari was not the sniper. No. Her Ari, her tired, fragile Ari was a prisoner in Gitmo. Director Shepherd and Gibbs, and a number of other agencies including the FBI had concluded that Ari was no longer useful and was now a threat. Mossad Deputy Director, Eli David had agreed. It was rumoured to be his suggestion that his son be sent to Gitmo.

His own son. Abby felt a little sick at that. No one had known that Ari Haswari was really Ariel Haswari David, half Israeli, half Palestinian and pawn on his father's chessboard. Even now, Abby was uncertain if everyone knew the whole truth. Ari had only told her the night before he was arrested. If even half of the rumours Abby had heard about his father were only partially true, her heart bled for her incarcerated lover.

Her heart bled for her friend Kate too. The pain of her friend's death had been the final straw. Gibbs had enumerated her sins to her in a private meeting that made Abby's heart pound and the air seem thin. Giddy with both relief that she had kept her job, and disbelief that she was not going to be sanctioned, she had soon discovered that Gibbs had erected a wall between them. That in some ways was worse.

Outwardly he carried on as before. But she could feel the distance between them. No Kate to share with. Gibbs so distant. Abby had faltered. She could not take her concerns to Ducky, he would also be disappointed in her. So she dealt with her issues alone. She had to.

She threw herself into her work with even greater passion, because there was going to come a time when her secret would no longer be possible to keep.

Swallowing her pride, it took every ounce of courage Abby possessed to ask permission to write to Ari. Aware that Director Shepperd knew that they were lovers, Abby tried to keep calm and held her emotions in check. The right to send a one sheet letter once a month was hers and it took another slice from her reserve of courage to walk back to her lab as though nothing very much had happened. The cold look of disapproval in Director Shepperd's eyes said everything.

It was clear that Tim and Tony did not know. Abby did her best to seem like business as usual. Hemmed in on every side with hostility or potential hostility on the inside grieving for her double loss, her friend, and her lover.

The final nail in the coffin of Abby's misery was the arrival of Ziva David as liaison officer. It did not take the brain of a genius to work out that Ziva was the younger half-sister that her Ari had talked about. Abby couldn't fathom why she was there. A member of the David family in their midst could only spell trouble.

* * *

><p>He was kept segregated from the others. Ari coped well at first. A tiny kernel of hope in his heart that they would tire of this game, and eventually he would make his way back to his lover. <em>To his family.<em> The week before this all began, he had made over his entire estate in trust for Abby so he knew she was taken care of.

Then he was taken from his cell in the middle of the night.

The cold look in the eyes of the older man standing in front of him, Ari knew he was going to suffer. His father wanted answers, and so far Ari's answers had not been satisfactory. He knew that. There were certain things that he could not reveal. They would lead too close to Abby. He had to protect her.

They stripped him naked. He could deal with that. He could go away deep inside himself. Humiliation was nothing, he could endure.

He told himself he could deal with it. His wrists roughly bound together with a plastic tie, he was pushed down until he was lying on the board, his wrists yanked above his head and tied down, then his ankles. They were brutal and methodical, the heavy cloth over his head…

The board dropped, his head lower than his feet, the cloth over his head, the water cascading down. He thrashed and struggled, he was drowning and terrified.

He had no idea how long they kept him, he was isolated from the outside world, time and space had no meaning. His wrists and ankles raw and bleeding from his struggles. His arms and legs covered in bruises. His throat raw from screaming and the effects of repeated partial drowning.

Finally they seemed to lose interest in making him scream. They roughly put his jumpsuit back on. Almost paralyzed with cold, injured, they dragged him back to his cell and dumped him on the floor.

He lay there, too weak to move, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Time passed. He had no idea how much time, somewhere in his pain and misery someone came along. He was lifted to the hard narrow bunk. His soaked jumpsuit removed, his wounds treated. A gentle voice, he was helped into a sitting position. "Drink this." It was all part of the dream, so he drank obediently. As he slumped back down, a gentle hand rested on his head.

He slept.

She knew it was against orders, for days she had stood aside and watched while he was tortured. Then they seemed to lose interest. He was dumped back in his cell in a pitiful state. Paula Cassidy was not without compassion, and seeing what was done to prisoner Haswari by his own people made her feel sick.

Discreetly she had him treated and cleaned up. She couldn't do too much, but she could make him a little comfortable, and give him a fighting chance of recovery. She wondered at his stubborn refusal to break. Tell them what they wanted to know. It was then she found the letters, tucked into a corner of the loose cover on the mattress. Three single sheets, carefully composed, very carefully cherished that she realized the truth. Haswari had a lover. He was protecting his lover.

He was sick. But he was also a fighter, he wasn't going to give up. So Paula arranged food and medication, and hoped like hell she wasn't getting it wrong again.

He slept a lot. Not wanting to draw too much attention, Paula gave him the medication herself.

He had been awake for two days, but he feigned sleep whenever anyone came near to check on him. Trying to work out in his head what he was going to do. He could still hope, but that was diminishing with time.

All he wanted to do was go home.


End file.
